p o u n d i n g
by winteredspark
Summary: /"What are you even doing here, Benson?" His words mean nothing anymore. "Liar," she wants to say, but doesn't. "You just don't want to admit you actually care."/ Or, their friendship is like the rain, their love the fear she can never hope to escape.


p o u n d i n g

.

She always used to hate the rain, especially as a child.

There was something about the pitter-pattering against the roof, the way the world drowned in clear drops, that scared her. But what scared Sam Puckett even more was the moment the rain died away and left a battered resemblance behind, the dismal remains of a battle lost; there was the cool feeling of the glass under her fingertips, her breath fogging the window, drops tracing like tears.

/

_"Mommy..."_

_"It's not coming back, Sammy. I promise." The woman shifts under her covers, takes a sip from a bottle Sam knows she's not to touch. _

_"Mommy, I -" Sam touches the glass again, blue eyes wide with fear. "Is it safe?"_

_"Of course it's safe." A hollow cough echoes from the bedroom. "Go on out now and play."_

_"Go with me," Sam whispers, tears rising in her eyes. The world outside the window looks so horrible, so washed away; she wonders what will happen to her once she steps out, doesn't want to go out alone. _

_"Not today, Sammy. Mommy's not feeling well."_

_Sam presses her torso against the window, feels the cold bleed into her skin. Her lower lip trembles but she opens the door anyways just to prove that she's not a crybaby. _

/

She's not a little girl anymore. Sometimes she has to wear suits to work - God, she hates those itchy things - and put on a mask, pretend like she's the happiest woman in the world.

And sometimes, like today, she's sick as heck - keeps hacking into the pillows because she's too stubborn to grab a tissue - and gets to stay home. As she looks about her dismal little apartment, Sam wishes just a little, for the thousanth time, that she had someone here. Just someone who cares. There used to be Carly; they lived together for a few years until Carly got a big break and moved to New York. Now they only Skype from time to time.

And Freddie -

Sometimes Sam wishes he would leave her alone.

/

_"You okay?" _

_He peers around the bedroom door, locks eyes with her and tries not to look away. But she has such an intense stare that he can't help but blink and glance away, towards the window decorated with rain-drops. _

_"Why wouldn't I be?" Her voice sounds scratchy, all used up._

_"Well, Carly's moving away," he says, taking one step, two, three, until he is beside her on the bed. She looks up at him, at those brown eyes, wishes for the first time in awhile that he hadn't given up on them. Not because she wants to be with him - pssssh, please, no - but because everyone always gives up. Now he's no different than the rest of them. _

_Everyone always gives up. _

_"It's whatever," she breathes, looks up at him, tries to smile. "What are you even doing here, Benson?"_

_"I -" he pauses, lips press against her cheek. "I thought this would be hard on you, so..." _

_She shivers, buries her head into the pillow. The rain continues to fall outside, bathing the streets, drowning the city. _

_"Liar," she wants to say, but doesn't. "You just don't want to admit you actually care."_

/

She hears the clattering of pans in the kitchen, knows he's back to haunt her yet again. Freddie would call it "checking up on her mental sanity," but she just thinks of it as a curse. As long as he continues to walk away, to pretend like nothing ever happened, then this is a curse.

"I'm still alive, if that's what you want to know," Sam mumbles as she walks into the kitchen.

Their eyes meet.

"Good to know," Freddie says, stirs something in a pot. "I'm making you soup."

"Stop trying to act like my mother." She wraps her arms about herself, leans against the wall.

"You never had a real mother."

"Touche." Sam presses her lips together. "I think you should go."

Freddie stops what he's doing, face freezing. "I'm not going to give up on you," he says quietly.

"You already have, and you know it."

"Damn it," he roars, tearing across the room towards her. She sees fury so bright in his eyes it makes her flinch. "Why won't you let me love you, Sam?" He cups her face in his hands, kissing her more roughly than he ever has. She melts into his touch, knows she'll never refuse him when he's like then, when he's like the old Freddie who believed anything was possible. They've both grown up, too much so.

Seconds later, she pushes him away. "Get out, Freddie."

He stares in disbelief, begging her for a moment with his brown eyes.

_Just tell me you're not giving up, _Sam pleads with her eyes. She'll never speak the words out loud. _Just tell me you'll stay and fight for me. _

"I love you, Sam." The door slams behind him.

_Liar. _

Sam falls back against the wall, numb, face blank. It's always like this. He'll be back one day, playing these games like she's a damsel in distress and they'll eventually find their happy ending. But they won't.

Because, see, Carly is like the rain, something Sam will always fear for her grace, her potential, her fire. She can't live with her, can't live without her. And Freddie, see he's like the calm after the storm, the moment when the clouds pull back, leaving the world a sodden mess. He's the unknown, the fear of hurt, the longing for something fantastic and magical.

And she'll forever be the girl in the corner, fingers pressed against the glass, wishing to just open the door and forget her fears -

- knowing she won't.

/

**a/n: Well, this was interesting. I don't know if I like it or not. It's underdeveloped, but decent, I suppose. Your thoughts are welcome(:**


End file.
